


A Mistake You Keep Making (Accidentally On Purpose)

by stealing_your_kittens



Series: Do-Overinator AU [1]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: F/M, May/December, co-dependent like whoa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4239858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealing_your_kittens/pseuds/stealing_your_kittens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tragic au exploring what might have happened if the Do Over-inator had never been pulled into one of its own rifts, the lives ruined and the less-than-entirely healthy relationship that results from being the ones on the outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mistake You Keep Making (Accidentally On Purpose)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MayaSerena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaSerena/gifts).



> A few years ago, I read Therapy, by MayaSerena on ff.n, and went "hmm" because I kinda have a thing about may/december, and Doofandace wouldn't be the first thing I've ever gone from crack-shipping to serious shipping. I forgot about it for awhile, then the finale happened and I was doomed. If anyone feels a little weird in their skin after reading this, I did it right.

It was kind of an accident, the first time. That was his story and he was sticking to it, because, believe it or not, it _is_ possible to accidentally have sex with a girl young enough to be your daughter. Not like “oops, I tripped and just happened to land in this position.” Not like that, don't be ridiculous. It was more like...ok, you know what, go back to the beginning a bit. 

See, time was stuck in a continuous loop, and it was getting, well, more than a little dangerous to be perfectly honest. He ignored it when the oranges disappeared. He didn't care when capri pants and suspenders disappeared. The loss of spoons was an inconvenience and the lack of tigers left him indifferent. The almond brittle was a concern, yes, as were the muffins, and the loss of the snow globe was aggravating, but it wasn't until a rift almost sucked in Vanessa that he finally shut off the machine. No more rips in the space time continuum. Problem solved. Except...no, not really. Because three days later that friend of Vanessa's -what was her name again?- turned up red-nosed with bags under her eyes. 

“They're just gone,” she exclaimed as soon as he opened the door, the tell-tale scratchiness of past tears in her voice. “And I've been waiting for _days_ now, but there haven't been anymore rips and no one believes me but now my brothers are totally gone and no one remembers but me!” 

“Oh, yeah, I shut off the machine,” He said, absently cheerful. “That looping business was _really_ dangerous.” 

“Didn't you hear what I said?” The girl leaped on him, grabbing him by the collar with surprising strength. “My!brothers!are!gone!” 

Oh. “To be fair, I don't think you took a breath and it got really hard to follow-” 

“Fix it,” she shouted, interrupting his pointless defense. 

But there _was_ no fixing it, short of turning the Do Over-inator back on. Which, again, _dangerous_. So that wasn't happening. Telling her that only set her off crying, something she'd obviously been doing too much of over the past few days because it only lasted a minute or two before she pulled herself back together. 

“You can't get them back at all?” 

“Not without ripping open the fabric of space and time,” he explained patiently. No point in yelling at a distraught little girl. (Yes, believe it or not, he still thought of her that way at the time. And not in a creepy way, either. Ew. Don't be gross.) 

The girl sighed and left without another word, shoulders slumped in defeat. Vanessa looked at him with confusion a few hours later, but gave him the girl's -Candace's- cell phone number willingly enough. 

“Can you pinpoint the exact spot they disappeared,” he asked without preamble as soon as Candace picked up the phone.

“I can give you general area,” she answered hopefully.

“Close enough.” He didn't have to turn the Do Over-inator back on, necessarily. He could always just build an -inator strictly for ripping open the space/time continuum. It was marginally less dangerous as long as he kept the rifts under control. 

There was a minor altercation with Perry the Platypus when he snuck into the backyard to take measurements, but it was over suspiciously quick when Candace came outside, glancing furtively over her shoulder. 

“My parents are starting to think I'm crazy,” she explained after he huffed in exasperation following her tenth startle. 

He nodded, measured, measured a second time and jotted the numbers down. Not that it did much good, now he thought about it. Who knew what the absence of time actually looked like; they could be anywhere. 

“How long do you think it'll take to find them?” 

“Weeell, assuming they're still alive...” Her face crumpled at that, but he went on just the same, not wanting her to get her hopes up for nothing. “...I have no idea.”

 And so they spent a year randomly ripping holes in time and space, Candace tossing in a life preserver and calling futilely for her brothers to pleaseplease just grab it. Vanessa, though skeptical, helped for a few months until her OWCA internship started and she suddenly had no time. To make up for the lack of her weight, they took to anchoring the rope to the heaviest object in the room. Usually Norm.

 He started to go in each time, looking for little clues as to where they might have gone. It was spooky in there and he shuddered as he described the gray scale nothing world to Candace, the two of them picking at the peels of the only two oranges in existence. But there was still hope, he added, because here and there were little signs of life. The boys had the same idea, apparently, and were on the move trying to find a rift on the inside. Sometimes it was painfully obvious that even a day sooner would have seen them safely home; he never mentioned that. 

Knowing they were technically just outside of time while still being in Danville should have made it a little easier, because they'd just try going home, right? But she invited him over one day while her parents were out and they spent a few fruitless hours tearing holes in the yard, the exercise room that used to be the bedroom of two little boys, even Candace's room as a last ditch effort. And he would swear on all the almond brittle no longer in the world that he never once thought of fooling around with her on that bed that so obviously belonged to someone still a child. Because that would be weird and he'd literally banished men for less when it came to Vanessa. So, maybe no one would ever believe him, but then and there Candace Flynn was still just a girl he was trying to help. 

Another three years, and she'd mostly stopped eating. Her parents were worried, there had been talk of having her committed “for her own good,” then they waffled so long she turned eighteen and they had no legal right to do so. There wasn't anything wrong with her, she always finished her rants by reminding him. As if he could forget when he was the one constantly popping in and out of existence, which he, in turn, reminded her of before insisting she finish breakfast if she wanted him opening any rifts that day. After all, she was no good to anyone if she wasted away. It hung unspoken that someday there might not _be_ an “anyone” for her to save. 

He went too far one time, stayed gone too long, Norm himself being pulled forward, and Heinz returned to find Candace on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He knelt beside her, in the corner where she was crouched pulling at her own hair and muttering about spoons and tigers. His own name was mixed into the chant, along with those of her brothers. 

“I'm alright, see. All in one piece. Right here. Candace. Candace?” 

When she finally looked up, there was no warning before she'd thrown her arms around him and nearly toppled them both. He steadied them quickly enough and let her bury her face in his neck, nearly hyperventilating herself in an effort to force out sobs that had dried up ages ago. It was only in passing that he noticed she felt much too thin. She was a skinny girl when he first met her, but -creepy alert, it only gets worse from here- with his hands resting on her waist it was obvious her hip bones jutted out too far; something she'd tried to hide with the baggy green sweater over her tight jeans.

After that, Candace was...well, handsy, for lack of a better word. Her hand inevitably found its way to resting on his arm when they talked over meals. She leaned too close when he showed her the locations he'd drawn up for each new rift; her hair brushing his cheek. But he didn't quite realize how much trouble he was actually in until the day she showed up earlier than usual and caught him unawares. He was getting on in years and the reading glasses he'd always needed had to come out more and more frequently. It just so happened he was wearing them that morning, and stupidly tossed them under the kitchen table as soon as he heard her voice. He stood, grimacing internally at the crunch when he overextended his foot, yet didn't even complain because _he didn't want her to know he wore them_. 

“You're early.” He noted with concern that she hadn't slept last night. The bags under her eyes were darker than usual. 

“I spent the night in jail,” she answered flatly. “And came home to find a voicemail from my boyfriend breaking up with me. Oh. And I'm homeless, now.” 

Heinz brought her a bowl of the non-dairy chocolate ice cream he kept on hand for Vanessa's bad days and Candace poked disinterestedly at it with one of the spoons he'd brought back. It wasn't a very nutritious start to the day, but he'd overlook it this once; she needed fattening up anyway. 

“Start at the beginning, sweetie.” The endearment slipped out, but he supposed spending four years taking care of a person could do that. He meant it paternally. Possibly. He wasn't really sure anymore. Getting weird, now. 

“Isabella completely forgot about Phineas.” 

“She did that four years ago.” Candace glared and he smiled apologetically. “Sorry.” 

“She used to have this mega-crush on my brother, and now...now she's dating Baljeet! It's like Phineas never even existed for her!” 

He wisely said nothing. 

“And when I saw them, I...” She slumped, dropping her spoon back into her barely touched ice cream. “I attacked her, her parents called the cops, I got arrested for assaulting a minor, my parents convinced them I was a nutcase and bailed me out this morning, then they and Jeremy all decided they couldn't deal with my 'delusional obsession' anymore. I've got two weeks to get settled and get my stuff out. Where am I meant to go? I don't even have a job.” Any further down and she'd faceplant the ice cream. 

“Wanna move in here?” He felt like the world's biggest creeper for asking, and went on to make excuses for himself. “I mean, it would be easier, you know? No borrowing money for the bus, no making up stories about where you're going, what you're doing-” 

He was willing to bet she hadn't smiled that widely in years. The expression pulled at her cheeks, highlighting that she'd lost too much weight; the childhood roundness replaced by something sharp and brittle. Her sunken eyes sparkled, showing a glimpse of the beauty she should have grown into. 

“Thank you,” she said over his rambling, leaning forward to kiss his cheek and...he'd either sunk too far into being a creepy old man, or she lingered just a little bit too long. 

Less than a week later, she was living in Vanessa's old room. It helped draw the line pretty firmly for awhile. Vanessa's friend, in Vanessa's old room. Most of the décor stayed the same, Candace not being overly-concerned with taking the time to redecorate when there were still brothers to save, but here and there were signs of the new occupant; unicorns on the shelves, a picture of Candace and her old best friend, Stacy. (The glass was cracked.) It would just be...ugh, no, really icky to think of doing anything in Vanessa's old bed, even if it _was_ newly-covered in Candace's sheets. Mr Miggins sat guard on the pillow and stared at him accusingly every time he chanced to stick his head in the door to speak with her. 

Not long after she moved in, the first gray streaks appeared in his hair. His first instinct -which he didn't want to examine too closely- was to start dying over it, though he ultimately stopped himself. It was just one more way of drawing the line. The older he looked in the mirror, the less likely he was to forget himself and do something stupid.

Candace was a light sleeper; nightmares will do that to a person. He'd never been the best at making it entirely undisturbed through the night, either, and 3 AM usually saw the both of them in the kitchen making almond brittle. It had always been a comfort food to him, something he was hardly ever allowed growing up but was fully capable of getting himself as an adult. With his supply now entirely non-existent, he'd resorted to this years ago. Candace joined in because it comforted her to see the evidence that someone else remembered everything she did. 

3 AM was a difficult time for him. In the old days, his thoughts drifted towards marketing almond brittle as his own invention and using the money from that to get the power he'd always dreamed of. Then he'd remind himself that would be dishonest and he'd promised Vanessa he'd be one of the good guys from now on. His thoughts tended down a more dangerous path now, with Candace sitting on the kitchen counter in her pajamas. They weren't even sexy pajamas -pale blue flannel printed with daisies-, it was just having someone else there in that cozy, domestic way he'd missed since getting divorced. 

Middle of the night Candace was a different creature from Daytime Candace. Daytime Candace had single-minded focus and often found herself exasperated by his wandering train of thought, more interested in ripping open the fabric of reality than in listening to him ramble. She would spend all day doing so if he didn't take advantage of the extra time he now had with her to put his foot down on the issue and insist he'd only tear the space/time continuum if she were eating three meals a day. Her weight was slowly starting to creep back up into a healthy range. He wasn't even going to pretend he hadn't noticed her jeans getting tighter. He'd given up on being able to entirely police his thoughts. 

Middle of the night Candace rambled as much as he did, talking on and on about the forgotten world where she drank orange juice at breakfast before spending the day trying to bust her brothers. She chattered contently, swinging her feet and watching him stir the toffee on the stovetop. Using the microwave would have been easier, but he preferred the old ways. Middle of the night Candace also liked to lick the toffee spoon, which he ignored as best he could. Middle of the night Candace made him long for safer thoughts of taking over the Tri-state Area, instead of...well, she was really going at that spoon. What do you _think_ he was thinking? 

It was 3 AM, Middle of the night Candace who caused matters to escalate. Probably unintentionally, though after the third night trying to ignore her over-enthusiasm for the toffee spoon he wasn't so sure, anymore. (It wasn't like he didn't know his almond brittle was delicious, but the sighing and moaning “that's sooo good,” were definitely overkill.) 

“You've got a little something...right there,” he tapped his thumb against the right side of his own mouth. Last night's batch was eaten, a new one was in the fridge and it was time to try sleeping again. 

Candace licked her lips a little slower than was strictly necessary, seeing as it was obvious he was watching, and raised her eyebrow questioningly. 

“No, it's right...oh, here, let me get it.” So maybe there was some shared blame. If he'd been thinking clearly, he probably would have used a napkin instead of putting his bare hand in such dangerous proximity to her mouth. One second, he was swiping away a sticky line of toffee, the next she was gently nipping at the pad of his thumb. 

“I'm fifty-two years old,” he said abruptly and winced now it was out. 

“I'm almost twenty,” she countered, holding his hand captive and nuzzling his palm. 

And there it was, unmistakably spelled out and impossible to ignore: Candace knew exactly what she was doing. For whatever reason, she was doing all of this on purpose, and it was perfectly legal -just so creepy, gah!- for him to take what was being offered. Also, see, that right there, that phrasing? Gross. 

But Candace knew she had him right where she wanted him, and effectively shut his mind up by kissing him. Entirely without permission from his brain, he pushed her back onto the kitchen table and crawled up after her. Even now, there was nothing hurried or urgent about the whole thing. They were just lazily making out on the table. He could easily disentangle himself and walk away. Any second now. Unfortunately, when he finally got control of his mouth back, it was only to ask how far she and Jeremy had gone. 

“Third base,” she admitted shyly. “We weren't together long enough to...not before my brother's disappeared. And then it was just all downhill.” 

He had really been hoping she wasn't a virgin, even if it was only a technicality at this point. 

So, in the end, completely accidental. Alright, maybe not an _accident_ so much as a mistake, but...they didn't go past third base, either, and he only gave her what she wanted; taking nothing for himself. So, no one could say he was _that guy_ if he were fooling around with a girl -woman- less than half his age and getting absolutely nothing out of it. She had her fun and he took a cold shower before going back to bed. She'd regret it in the morning and that would be that. 

He was still positive they'd returned to the status quo when both re-emerged a few hours later. Candace was a bit more subdued around him, no unnecessary touching or invading of personal space. Yup. Regret. He'd just pretend everything was normal until the awkwardness went away. Then she opened her mouth and completely shattered the delusion. 

“You didn't have to send me away last night.” 

She sounded hurt. And so did he -albeit physically rather than emotionally- when his concentration slipped and he spattered bacon grease on the back of his hand. A minor sting, nothing to write home about, but he still couldn't help the little scream that escaped. 

 He latched onto the excuse with everything he had. “Now, see, this-this is why you and me are a bad idea. I mean, look, it's like...We're like bacon, ok? Really delicious -that came out wrong- but really unhealthy, and someone's gonna get burned. Most likely me.” He shook his injured hand to emphasize the point. 

“I see.” And she went back to her room without eating, though at least she remembered the rules about rifts and cleaned the plate he left outside her door. 

For a week, they didn't say anything more than was necessary to each other. Nothing more than the usual when and where on the rifts, and what supplies are we sending in today? It only took a week for him to crack. One night, tired of once more being alone in the kitchen, he knocked on her door. 

“I'm reading,” she snapped when it opened. 

“Yeah, I know. Well, I mean, I didn't know you were reading, obviously, but I knew you weren't asleep. Look, can you just come out here? Please?” Behind her, he could see Vanessa's wallpaper and four poster bed frame. 

“Why, so you can tell me what a bad idea I am again?” 

He sighed. “No, so I can throw myself out of the frying pan,” he gestured both hands to the left, “and into the fire.” Both hands to the right. 

“Nice,” Candace responded sarcastically, arms crossed under her chest. 

She was still in his daughter's room. In a sudden motion he dragged her out into the hall with one hand while shutting the door behind her with the other. 

“Alright, what- mmph!” His lips were on hers and the rest of that sentence was lost. “What-” She tried again when they came up for air, only to lose the question again in that funny little whimpering moan she made when her neck was kissed. That sound had been on his mind entirely too much for the past week, and he enjoyed hearing it again way more than was probably healthy. 

She tried to drag him backwards into her room, but he resisted. 

“My daughter slept in there.” He hoped that said enough. No matter that Vanessa had her own apartment now, and only dropped by for short visits without staying the night, that room was too closely associated with his baby girl. 

In the end, he was the one to lead Candace down the hall to his room. And now there couldn't be any pretense that he was anything other than that guy. That _creepy_ guy. He appeased his conscience somewhat by letting her take charge -and she blushed and giggled her way through the whole thing, which was adorable- but it didn't change the fact that he 'rounded home plate' with someone young enough to be his daughter. Maybe this was that mid-life crisis everyone else he knew seemed to be having, except he was less worried about his own eventual doom and more about the fact that he was much too old for her. 

The next morning, the opening of the post-breakfast rift, she stopped him for another kiss. 

“Be careful.”

 “I'm always careful,” he pointed out, holding up the length of rope tied around his waist. 

“Be careful,” she repeated. “You're all I have.” 

Great. Now on top of everything he had the guilt that he was taking advantage of a troubled girl -young woman- with nowhere else to turn. Even Perry The Platypus was convinced she'd snapped and when he did drop by it was only to stare at her sadly and check her surreptitiously for any signs that Heinz was somehow behind all of this. Something that made a lot more sense after Candace recognized him as her family pet even with his little OWCA-issued fedora. (Great observational skills.) It stung a little to have his former nemesis think so lowly of him, but...you know, former _nemesis_. Fair enough. 

“ _My own platypus doesn't believe me!”_  

“ _We'll find them, then **everyone** will believe you.” Really, they'd only be bringing back two more people who would believe her. To everyone else they'd have always been there. Two more people to suffer with her, then._  

It was nearly another two years before they found either of them, and Heinz almost wished they hadn't. He and Candace had eventually hit on the idea of leaving notes along with a pen so that the boys could find them and everything had finally come together. The note had been found and an answer left at exactly the right time so that all parties involved knew when and where to meet. 

Waiting for him next to the gray entrance of Danville park was a boy in his late teens, red hair too long and eyes too wild, wearing a pair of orange polka-dotted capri pants and a man's blue flannel shirt. They sent supplies through, often, but that didn't necessarily mean they were always found, as evidenced by this tragic ensemble. Clearly the pants that came with the shirt were nowhere to be seen. 

“Phineas?” The boy's eyes snapped to his. “Are you Phineas Flynn?” Stupid question. The boy had Candace's eyes. “Where's Ferb?” 

“Ferb, I know what we're gonna do today,” Phineas croaked out. His teeth were visibly yellow and broken. 

“Yyyeaaah. Look, we gotta get out of here before Candace gets worried.” 

Phineas visibly recoiled. “Candace ate Ferb!” 

“No, I-I don't think she did.” Heinz offered his hand, hoping the boy would come closer and take it. Too much further and he'd pull Norm in after him. 

“Candace ate Ferb,” Phineas insisted. “I killed her.” 

“Ooookay. Clearly you've been through something awful, but we can deal with that after we're safely back in reality.” He stretched, daring to scooch forward another inch. The rope was still taut, so he dared another. One more. Phineas watched warily, worrying the already ragged skin of his lips. “C'mon, you wanna go home, don't you?”

 Finally, he'd found the words to snap the kid out of it and a pale hand with too-long and blood-stained fingernails was placed in his own. Heinz cringed in disgust and closed his hand tightly in order to hang onto his new-found rescuee. He tugged the rope in signal and in seconds they were yanked back into the real entrance of Danville park. 

“Heinz! Phineas!” 

Candace hadn't noticed the state of her brother, hurling herself at the red-haired boy and hanging on for dear life. Phineas didn't hug back, trying to curl in on himself protectively. 

“Uh, Candace, sweetheart, maybe let go of the traumatized boy?” 

Candace stepped back reluctantly. “We'll take him home with us,” she said decisively. 

The next morning's paper carried the headline that a runaway boy, Phineas Flynn, had been found in the park by the loving sister -along with her elderly pharmacist boyfriend-, who'd never given up on him. Heinz sent her a sardonic, knowing glance over the top of his new glasses and Candace laughed bitterly. There was no mention of a second missing boy. 

Over the next several days, the two of them pieced the story together in horrifying fragments: the hungry tigers had gradually turned on each other, the boys had saved the last one, only to have her turn on them, as well. There was no way of knowing how long ago it had happened, or when their last chance was to save both boys. Heinz had a sinking feeling it was a recent event, as all but the last few notes were too cheerful to come from the shattered boy now living with them. There was no need to tell Candace, she'd seen the same notes and drawn the same conclusion and that was just the crack in the dam she needed. When the last of the puzzle clicked into place, she held herself in check only until her baby brother was safely tucked away in Vanessa's old room. Once their door closed behind her, she let loose with an eerie, ear-splitting wail that had every hair on Heinz's body standing on end. 

It wasn't a situation almond brittle could fix, so Heinz brought her the heaviest throwable objects he could find from the lab and ducked into the en suite bathroom until the crashing stopped. Then he crept out and helped her up off the floor and into their bed. He knew she didn't sleep, she was too still in the ball she'd curled herself into, so it was no surprise when she poked his side in the middle of the night and asked if they could go back in time to stop Ferb from dying. And after all the trouble he'd gone to for her, she decided he'd be the perfect target for her irrational anger after he told her it was literally impossible to go back in time in a place where there was no time. The only thing they could do was go back to the day they disappeared and pluck Ferb out of reality, possibly saving her brothers from ever disappearing at all and completely rewriting history. Probably destroying all life as they knew it. 

“You just don't want me to stop needing you,” she accused once she'd ranted herself out, stomping over to the door. 

That was completely unfair. And also not true. “I would love that, actually,” he sniped. “You're always so needy and whiny.” She couldn't have looked more wounded if he'd struck her, but his own feelings were hurt and he always did go too far when that was the case. “I didn't even want,” he gestured around to encompass the little signs of her occupancy in his room, “any of this in the first place!” 

“Fine, I'll start looking for a new place as soon as its daylight,” Candace snarled back. 

“Oh, sure, run away like a scared little girl now that you've made this huge emotional mess. I _tried_ to tell you this wouldn't work, but you just _couldn't_ listen! See, what did I tell you? Bacon.” 

Instead of replying, she stormed out and slammed the door behind her. She spent the rest of the night in the living room. 

The next morning, though he felt skittish and terrified of setting her off with the wrong word or comment, he joined her on the couch and made the effort to reopen communication. Never let it be said he wasn't willing to try. He was absolutely going to be the bigger person here.

 “Sooo...where will you go?” 

“I don't know.” The tv was on, the early morning news still telling the story of the feral boy found in the park. Neither of them paid much attention despite staring resolutely at the screen. “Maybe back home to my parents until I can get a job.” 

“You know, I used to think about patenting almond brittle as my own thing. I could do it and give you the money.” 

“Payment for services rendered,” she snarked and his face reddened at the implication. “No, thank you, I'd hate to be too _needy_.” 

“You know what, fine!” Heinz stood, waving his hands in the air angrily. So much for being the bigger person. “I tried. Just throw your little tantrum and go on back to mommy and daddy, I'm sure they'll be thrilled to see their public menace daughter and lunatic son.” 

Candace just couldn't let him have the last word. “At least _my_ parents always loved me,” she got in his face, refused to let him pass her by. “Probably because I'm not an overgrown, pointy-nosed...lawn gnome!”

 “That's what you're going with,” he deadpanned. “Tell me something I don't know, baby.” 

Her face grew red, clashing horribly with the shade of her long hair. 

“C'mon,” he mocked, looming over her and enjoying her sputtering, incoherent rage far too much. “Let me have it, but you're gonna have to try really hard to find one I haven't already heard. Ugly, pointy-nosed, parents hate you, failure, blahblahblah. Heard them all.”

 “Oh yeah?” She pushed against his chest, backing him off and drawing herself up to her full height; still falling a couple inches short of his eyeline. _“_ Here's a new one for you, then. _I_ hate you! You were my last resort in _everything_ ,” she raised an eyebrow meaningfully, “but I've never been able to stand you!” 

“Okay, ouch,” he grumbled, deflating. It didn't matter that she looked horrified, or that her mouth was opening and closing soundlessly; looking for a way to take it back. That was low, hit him where it hurt, and he wanted her out of his face. He spun towards the exit without another word, Candace blocked him again. 

“I'm-” 

“Move,” he said quietly, shrugging off the hand she reached out. Candace stepped aside, letting him pass unhindered to the front door. 

“Heinz, wait,” she called softly. 

He only waved a dismissal without looking at her and left in his pajamas. That part wasn't intentional, however, pride stopped him from going back to change. Heinz spent the entire day out of the tower, stoically enduring the stares and comments about the weirdo in the bathrobe. Everyone needed to mind their own business, really. The only one who needed to be concerned about the weirdo in the bathrobe...was the weirdo in the bathrobe. Which was him. So, really, it was no one's business but his...whatever. It was late evening when he returned, hoping Candace was already gone. 

Unfortunately, she wasn't. He spent a few minutes in the lab building an Avoid-inator, which would allow him to pass undetected through any room she was in no matter how much noise he made, and wore it clipped to his robe belt. It was a pretty useful tool for spying, too. He sat unnoticed in the corner, reading the note she'd left on his pillow, along with her key, while she shuffled around the room still wearing her Duckie Momo slippers and the top half of his pajamas -looked like he wasn't the only one not bothering to get dressed today- and folded her clothes neatly into duffel bags. 

_Heinz,_

_I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I think I knew before you said it that there was no way to see Ferb ever again, but hearing it out loud hurt too much and I guess I took it out on you. So, you were right, I'm a whiny little girl who threw a tantrum because she didn't get her own way -_ No argument there- _I said a lot of stupid things I didn't even mean and I'm just...sorry._  

 _My parents remember Phineas now, they've completely forgotten I was ever “delusional,” and are so proud of how loyal I was that when I called they invited both of us to move back in. They don't exactly approve of you -_ He could clearly picture the half-smirk when she wrote that- _but I don't exactly care. You've been great and I'm_ _sosososoooooo_ _sorry (I can't say that enough) that I screwed this up. I wish you weren't kicking me out, but if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me._  

 _Candace_  

She left still wearing his shirt and a pair of leggings, her unbrushed hair in a bun. He didn't try to stop her. He didn't _want_ to stop her. Midnight found him changing the sheets on his bed to get away from the combined scents of Tropical Mango Volumizing Shampoo and Split End Repairing Conditioner, as well as Coconut Beach Party Lotion. There was a vacant shelf in his shower and an empty spot on the dresser where the bottles sat. At least she took them with her, got them out of his way. Plus, it was really nice how organized she always was, not even a forgotten earring or anything to indicate she was ever there. Not that he spent a few minutes looking. Because that would mean he missed her. Which he didn't. Who in their right mind would miss sleeping next to someone who always smelled like The Bahamas? 

Not being one to use a cellphone, he still kept a land line in his house and if someone wanted to text him, they could use a computer. Candace tried both, he stopped answering her calls and deleted every email unread (no one would ever hold a grudge as well as him). Sure, he could have just ignored them, but deleting removed temptation entirely. It only took him a month or so to settle back into a routine where he was alone in the middle of the night, where there wasn't a second toothbrush he had to be careful not to grab because it was so close to his. Candace eventually gave up on contacting him and that was that. 

Except, no, because he was the favorite punching bag of the universe. There he was, innocently doing a little Friday grocery shopping and working the only free register in the Food-Stuff Mart was one Candace Flynn. He wasn't close enough for her to see him, yet, and he hesitated longer than any sane person would as to whether or not to take the completely empty line or jump into the one three lanes down where a family of five was buying enough food to survive a ten-year zombie apocalypse. Luck ran out when she stopped fidgeting awkwardly in place and looked up to see if there were any wandering customers she could grab. Normal thing, he saw cashiers do it all the time, but she was staring straight at him and her expression was hurt, angry and challenging all at once; daring him to just turn the cart into the lane. He did, and, absurdly, his hand went halfway to his glasses before he remembered he wasn't supposed to care how he looked to her, and it wasn't as if she hadn't seen them a million times.

 “Good afternoon,” she smiled blandly, “how are you today?” 

“I've been better.” He rolled his eyes, face twisted in exasperation. Great. Grocery store smalltalk. 

“Are you signed up for our points program?” 

“No.” 

“Would you like-” 

“No.” 

“I need to talk to you.” She was deviating from the customer/cashier script, so he said nothing and Candace huffed, irritated. “It's about Phineas.” 

Oh. Opportunistic fellow shoppers, having noticed he wasn't buying much, were quickly filling in the line behind him. This wasn't the time or place for any conversation about that poor little boy. “I'll call you,” he promised, paid quickly and left. 

Five minutes later, he realized he didn't know when she'd be free. _Dummkopf_. He called her anyway and left an awkwardly rambling voicemail about his idiocy as further proof he'd kept his promise. 

“Hello, Candace? It's Heinz. Well, I mean, who else would be calling from this number?...Aaanyway, I just realized I have no idea when your shift ends, but I said I'd call and so...I'm calling, and...Yeah, just call me back. Or don't. But, I mean, you probably will since you asked...whatever. Bye.”

 It was another four hours before she called back, voice carefully neutral as she explained that her brother desperately needed to move back into the tower. Their parents not remembering Ferb, Candace was watching a repeat of her own nightmare being played out with the brother who truly _was_ out of his mind. 

“Not me, I promise, just him.” 

“Fine,” he said grudgingly. “He can come back.” It wasn't that he resented Phineas' presence, so much as he had absolutely no desire to see Candace back at his door lest he be tempted to do or say something stupid. 

She came by on her day off, a Thursday, around noon. Phineas was next to her, dressed much better, clean with shorter hair and nails, teeth capped. He looked good- healthy even- but for the nervous way his gaze kept darting around to the corners, searching out the safest hiding places. Heinz knew that trick. Candace nudged the boy forward, picking up the two suitcases sitting at her feet.

 “I'll leave as soon as he's unpacked.”

 He did something stupid. While Candace helped her brother once more set up living in Vanessa's old room, Heinz put the electric kettle on with every intention of offering her chamomile tea to settle her nerves. What? She looked like she wasn't sleeping well again, and the tea was hers, anyway. He wasn't going out of his way or anything. 

Poking his head in the door, he took in a very heartbreaking scene. On the night stand next to the bed, there was a childish, badly-drawn picture of two little boys; the green-haired one he vaguely recalled meeting once or twice, but there was no doubt as to who it was. Candace, being outside of the time loops, still had a picture of both boys in her wallet, it was framed next to the drawing. Several more were stuck to the walls, all depicting two happy little boys on a series of adventures. 

On the bed, Phineas was stretched out on his stomach, drawing contently, crayons just to the side of his right hand. Candace bustled about the room putting shirts in the closet and folding pants into drawers. Heinz cleared his throat quietly. 

“I'll be gone in a few minutes,” Candace said without looking at him. 

“Nono, that's fine. There's no hurry. I was just gonna ask...do you want any tea? I mean, you just left it lying around, so...” The one thing he'd finally found to prove she'd really been there at all. 

“I'd like that.” One corner of her mouth turned up just slightly. It was her tired smile.

 “What about him?”

 “Do you still have any cherry soda?”

 “No,” he said apologetically. “Perry The Platypus came by for bowling night and drank it all when I wound up crying on his shoulder. Not literal crying,” he added hastily, not wanting her to picture him blubbering like a baby all over a monotreme's tiny little shoulder. Here was more of that stupidity he'd been so afraid of.

 Candace giggled quietly. “That's alright, he'll be fine for awhile with his drawing.” The smile faded as she followed him to the kitchen, leaving the bedroom door open just in case Phineas had one of those panic attacks that she'd told him the boy was prone to, now. From memory, he fixed the tea exactly the way she liked it -two spoons of honey- and passed it over to where she sat with her head buried in her hands. “Thank you.”

 “Eh, it's just tea.” There wasn't much that needed doing, but his hands somehow found things to busy themselves with; opening and closing drawers, fiddling with the silverware, getting a glass of water, all random bits of nothing that gave him an excuse not to look at her.

 "No, for letting him come back. You're the only one who could ever understand.”

 “Last resort, huh?” It was a cheap shot but he couldn't resist; it still stung to have her confirm his every insecurity like that.

 “I said I was sorry about that.” Cradling her hands around her teacup, she looked up with watery eyes, sounding so completely tired and defeated that it pulled him straight to her side.

 “Drink your tea, you'll feel better.” It was a non-apology; he couldn't bring himself to offer a real one.

 Candace sipped obediently, a not entirely awkward silence descending between them. Not that it was comfortable, either, with the way he drummed his fingers on the table, but it was still easy and familiar; taking him back to the early days when she was just a frightened girl he barely knew and he didn't know what to say to help. Back before she made the leap over the invisible line from “Vanessa's little friend” to “attractive woman.” Perfect. Back to being creepy.

 “Can I visit him,” she asked at last, when her cup was empty.

 “He's _your_ brother.”

 “Will it bother you?”

 “I'll go out.”

 Some spark of hopefulness flickered out, one he hadn't even realized was there until it died. He placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a little squeeze and trying to silently communicate every reason it would be a bad idea for him to stick around.

 “Bacon,” she asked sadly.

 “Bacon,” he confirmed with a nod.

 “Fair enough.” Heaving a sigh, she got to her feet and swooped in before he realized quite what she was about to do, kissing his forehead. “I'll just get out of your hair.” She dug a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket, handing it to him. “Here's his schedule.” Another. “A list of shows not to let him watch, plus what to watch out for in shows he _can_ watch.” A third. “Things that calm him down, and what sets him off.”

 She watched him stick the lists prominently on the refrigerator door, then went back to say goodbye to her brother. Heinz followed, hovering awkwardly.

 “Behave for Heinz, ok, Phineas?” Her voice ascended into the higher register of her teens. “Or you'll be _soooo_ busted.”

 “Heinz is in charge?”

 “Heinz is in charge. I'll come see you tomorrow, okay?”

 It was a rhetorical question aimed at her brother, but a literal one was still asked when she glanced at him. He nodded.

 “What time will you be back,” he asked when they stood uncomfortably alone at the front door.

 “My shift ends at six...call it about seven, if that's not too late?”

 “No, it's fine. I can leave about ten minutes before that and we'll just miss each other.”

 “That's the thing,” Candace looked sheepish. “I don't have a key anymore, remember? Can you, maybe...stay til I get here?”

 “Fine.”

 It never got any easier, letting her in every evening at seven. He was tempted to give her key back but didn't want her getting the wrong idea. Or more of the wrong idea, since she always brought take out for her brother's dinner and it didn't take long for Heinz to become concerned with how unhealthy it was for the two of them to eat so much greasy fast food. He was already cooking two meals a day for Phineas, what was one more? And what was the big deal if Candace joined them, when it made the boy so happy? And she'd better not be reading into the fact that he stayed. He cooked the food, he had every right to eat it.

 It was easy to settle into a paternal headspace where Phineas was concerned. He was of legal age to be considered an adult, but his shattered mind was still very much a little boy. Phineas loved tinkering in the lab, under extremely close supervision, and the guilt ate at him for the very large part he'd played in accidentally destroying the bright future the clearly genius boy might have had. Phineas had loving, encouraging parents -even if they knew nothing of his true capabilities-who would have gladly supported his dreams; he wouldn't have had to settle for community college and an internet degree.

 The saddest thing was that sometimes, when nothing would soothe the boy quite like putting a screwdriver into his hand, Phineas inevitably began chattering to Ferb. _Hand me that wrench, Ferb. I need about 16 inches of the copper wire, Ferb._ Heinz didn't answer outright to the name, not wanting to feed into the delusion, but he still did as asked. It didn't seem to bother Phineas that his brother never spoke, but Candace assured him that would have been normal for Ferb, anyway.

 Settling into a paternal headspace with Candace, on the other hand, was completely impossible. Not only had that ship sailed years ago, but it was just really icky to contemplate. _Really_ icky. But the need to take care of her was still there, whether it be as surrogate father -gah!- or boyfriend. _Ex_ -boyfriend. Well, assuming she'd ever thought of him as a boyfriend and not as some sort of...last resort friend with benefits thing. Wasn't he a little too old for the word boyfriend? So, there he was trapped between the competing impulses to fuss over her and avoid her entirely. He compromised with himself by feeding her and excusing himself out of the tower as soon as dinner ended.

 One night, she showed up a little later than usual and Phineas, eyes fastened obsessively to the living room clock, panicked as soon as the hand ticked past seven.

 “Candace is lost,” he insisted, terror in his eyes. “Candace is lost!”

 “Candace is late,” Heinz said calmly, approaching him with crayons and paper already in hand. “Probably because of the rain. Here, why don't you come on into the kitchen and wait with me?”

 Thankfully, Phineas settled easily enough when he saw that he was safe in the kitchen with another living person. It wasn't always the case when something set him off, but today was one of his good days and he understood the concept of “late” even if he couldn't communicate well anymore.

 Candace didn't show up until they were nearly finished eating, twenty minutes late. She let herself in without knocking and barely stuck her head into the kitchen.

 “I'm using your shower,” she informed him.

 “Hey, wait a minute!” He hurried after her. “I never said you cou- What happened to you?!”

 There was some sort of mud monster in his hallway; a scowling Candace plastered head to toe with it so that even her hair had dried into stiff, muddy spikes.

 “Flat tire. Rain. Jerks who like to drive through puddles. I'm using your shower.” She considered a moment, plucking at her muddy shirt. “And your washing machine. Deal with it.”

 Heinz stifled a laugh, raising his hand to cover the little grin he couldn't entirely suppress. Candace practically growled and he did laugh, then, waving her on in the direction of his bedroom. “We had baked spaghetti,” he informed her. “I saved you a plate.”

 They were finishing dessert when she came back, wearing his bathrobe open over a pair of boxers and an undershirt. Something he'd definitely not given permission for. He very patiently held his tongue until after she'd eaten, but once Phineas had gone to watch tv and Candace had gone to put her clothes in the dryer, Heinz couldn't hold himself back anymore.

 “What was I supposed to wear,” she demanded, after he followed her to voice the -admittedly irrational- complaint. “Even my underwear was clammy.”

 “Okay, ew, TMI.” He held up his hands to ward off the overwhelming squick from that comment. Then his brain caught up to the situation. “Wait. Are you saying you're not wearing any...?”

 “That's exactly what I'm saying,” she informed him flatly. “And that's another thing you're just going to have to deal with.”

 That was a thing he _couldn't_ deal with. “Did you really have to tell me,” he whined.

 “You asked. By the way,” she added with studied casualness, focused intently on the task of programming the dryer, “a guy I work with asked me out today.”

 “That's nice,” he answered just as falsely. “Maybe you'll have a good time.”

 Dryer on, she turned to him. “Kinda hard when I'm still hung up on someone else.”

 He nodded. “Jeremy. Right. I remember.”

 Candace rubbed her temples. “Sometimes I really can't tell if you're being dense on purpose.”

 Finding himself suddenly defensive, Heinz folded his arms. “And what's _that_ supposed to mean?”

 “It means you're an idiot,” Candace snapped, “I haven't been in love with Jeremy in years!”

 He stared. “...You just said the L word.”

 “Because I have 'L word' feelings for you.” The unspoken “duh” translated plainly through her expression.

 “That was totally unexpected,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “And wow! I don't think this could get any more awkward.”

 Candace watched him expectantly. “This is...kinda the part where you say it back,” she prompted while tugging nervously at her wet hair.

 “Aaaand you made it more awkward.”

 Her lower lip trembled. “I'm just gonna go watch tv with Phineas.”

 She left an hour later, once she was dressed and groomed again. All things considered, it was the most intensely uncomfortable hour of his life. He could have left, but Phineas was watching The Invention Channel and it happened to be a rerun of that special on -inators. And he had every right to sit in his own living room.

 “I won't be here Saturday.” Candace knelt next to Phineas, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I have a date, but I'll see you Sunday, okay?'

 Phineas nodded solemnly and marked the date on the little pocket calendar he carried around now. In the armchair, entirely removed from where the siblings were sitting together in the floor, Heinz slouched and grumbled audibly to himself. Candace shot him a sweetly venomous smile over her brother's shoulder. _You had your chance,_ it said. There was an extra sway in her hips when she left, a deliberate taunt.

 Saturday saw him chronically irritable and by the time breakfast was over he had lost patience with Phineas several times for the smallest infractions; things that he'd dealt with countless times by now. Phineas was actually scared of spoons, and slurped his oatmeal up like a dog. That made too much of a mess, which Heinz grumbled about cleaning. Then he grew even grumpier when Phineas retreated to the corner beside the fridge to sit staring at him with sad, apologetic eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he snapped.

“Sorry,” Phineas lowered his eyes. “I'll use a spoon next time.”

Nice, now he felt terrible. There were spoons everywhere in what Phineas called Nullville, and it was the most ridiculous panic trigger but there was no getting around the fact that using one left Phineas terrified he'd gone back there. And in the end, was a fear of spoons any more ridiculous than how quickly Heinz froze if someone snapped at him not to move? Even in English, the words had him quickly taking up his lawn gnome pose while shaking all over. He finished wiping the table and risked another glance at the corner when he heard a quiet sniffle.

“Hey.” He knelt in front of Phineas, reaching out to give his shoulder the tiniest shake. “Don't cry, I didn't mean to yell.” This was as bad as the first time he'd gotten truly angry with Vanessa when she was a little girl, becoming convinced for hours afterward that he was no better than his father and not fit to be a parent. Vanessa was fine again by the time Charlene convinced him it was still safe to go near her, to just talk to her and explain why he'd gotten mad. That didn't stop him from feeling guilty enough to buy her an entire dozen cupcakes and let her eat them all herself. Charlene had been less understanding about things when Vanessa, not knowing about moderation, had been both very hyper and very sick.

“I don't have to use spoons?” Phineas looked up hopefully.

“No spoons,” Heinz promised. “I'm just having a bad day. C'mon, we'll go for a walk.”

They seldom went far on their walks, just around the block. Sometimes, when reminded of Nullville, Phineas needed nothing more than to see the real Danville; vibrant and alive. Other times, like now, Phineas wanted to go to the park. He had enough self-awareness not to try playing with the other, smaller children after last time, at least, but he still loved to swing and slide. Heinz hovered near the swing set, glaring right back at the concerned mother who kept glaring at Phineas as he swung happily next to her ten year old daughter.

“He's not _doing_ anything,” Heinz finally snapped at her, earning an offended huff in return. “Yeah, that's right, I'm on to you.” She switched her glare to him and they maintained mutually disdainful eye contact until Phineas grew bored of swinging. Heinz added a final insult by blowing a raspberry at her as they left.

Dinner time was too quiet with no Candace there to fill the silence. When Phineas went too far into the past, back to times and places Heinz had no way to go, it was Candace who went in after him and pulled her little brother back to the present. He didn't know what he'd do if it happened without her there. A preemptive strike was in order.

“Hey, you wanna eat in the living room tonight? We can watch tv a little early.”

 Phineas was agreeable to this break in routine, probably also feeling his sister's absence. Duckie Momo dvds were deemed the safest thing, given that it wasn't Phineas' usual tv time and Heinz had no way of knowing what might be on that would set off a panic attack. He barely made it ten minutes without speaking.

 “I wonder if Candace is having fun on her date.”

 Phineas nodded. “She likes dating.”

 Heinz had never taken her on a single date, unless outings to open up rifts counted. Almond brittle at three in the morning because you both have nightmares wasn't exactly romantic. So, maybe, she'd have fun with this guy and get to do all those things she missed out on. Yeah, this could be good for her. She'd move on and get over that L word he shouldn't say. And then she wouldn't be around as much and he'd be able to get over his L feelings, too. This could be good for them both.

 He held on to that resolve until Sunday evening. Then came the knock at the door, and it all flew out the window.

 “Did you have fun,” he asked in that snide tone people use when they hope someone _didn't_ have fun.

 “Tons,” she responded sweetly, brushing past him as if she owned the place. “He asked me out again next Saturday.”

 They were snarky with each other all through dinner. Phineas whipped his head back and forth as if he were watching a tennis match and nervously excused himself as soon as dinner was over. Heinz headed for the door as Candace followed her brother to the living room, seeing now that spending too much time around a Candace who was dating was even worse than spending too much time around a Candace who wanted to get back together.

 He spent a few minutes indecisively riding the elevator up and down -earning strange looks from the other people in his building- before deciding he'd just walk around the block a few times. That got old, fast, so he caught the late evening bus to the grocery store. Might as well be productive, and what better time when there was absolutely no chance he'd run into Candace?

 Grocery stores runs are only useful when you know what you're buying. Lacking a list, Heinz wandered the aisles aimlessly and finally left with a bottle of cherry soda since he did at least know Phineas was nearly out, as well as a box of chamomile tea. What? He wanted to be a good host.

 The apartment was dark when he returned; Candace must have already put Phineas to bed and left. Good. He quietly put the groceries away and tiptoed through the living room.

 “Heinz.”

 “Oh, perfect,” he muttered. He should have recognized a trap when he saw one. Phineas was in bed, yes, but Candace was lying in wait on the couch.

 “Can we talk?”

 “Maybe some other time,” he deflected, grabbing her arm and trying to pull her up. “It's really late and I've got a ton of things to do tomorrow.”

 “No, you don't.” Candace was actually terrifyingly strong, and when she refused to move -like now- there wasn't a thing he could do about it. “We _need_ to talk.”

 He was still trying to pull her off the couch. Just because he _couldn't_ do anything, didn't mean he wasn't going to try. “There's nothing to talk about. Get your stubborn heinie off my couch!”

 Instead of listening, Candace reached up and yanked him down next to her. “Sit _your_ stubborn heinie down and stop acting like a child.”

 “Fine.” He sulked, staring straight ahead with arms folded. “Let's talk about your new boyfriend.”

 “You're jealous.”

 “What? No, I'm not! Why should I be jealous just because you're dating some guy who's probably, like, half my age and good-looking? There's nothing to be jealous of. I'm not jealous.”

 Candace rested her head on the back of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. “Why are you so good at giving me a headache?”

 “It's a gift,” he shrugged. “If you don't like it, don't stick around.”

 “I never said I didn't like it.”

 “Oh, yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “that's healthy.”

 She rolled her neck so that she was facing him. “If you're about to make that stupid bacon analogy again-”

 “It's not stupid-”

 “Hush up.” She actually put her hand over his mouth; he grumbled indignantly behind it. “I'm gonna talk, and you're gonna listen. Got it?”

 He nodded.

 “Alright, I want yes or no answers until I say otherwise. Are you jealous?”

 He started to shake his head in denial, but Candace raised a skeptical eyebrow and he nodded slowly; reluctantly.

 “Do you love me?”

 Again the slow nod.

 “Do you want me back?”

 He shook his head quickly.

 Candace moved her hand. “Why not?”

 Because she was right, he was a last resort. Because clinging to this weird little...whatever it was, between them was holding her back from any kind of normal life. But what came out when he opened his mouth was a childish mutter. “You called me a last resort.”

 “And I've said sorry a million times.”

 “But you were right. If none of this had ever happened, you'd be Candace Johnson by now.”

 “Does that even matter? I mean, really? I broke the space/time continuum, ruined a lot of lives -including my own- and I'm never going to be the same person I would have been otherwise. You're the only one who gets that.”

 “And if you _were_ the same person, we wouldn't even be _having_ this conversation.” He was certain he'd won with that.

 “Again, does that matter?”

 “Does that-? Of course it matters!”

 “Why?”

 “Well, because, it- because-It just does!”

 “I see.” Candace looked smug. “Would _you_ have ever asked _me_ out, in that other life?”

 He wrinkled his nose. “Don't be weird.”

 “Well, there you go. Wasn't meant to happen. _Shouldn't_ have happened, but it did and I'm good with it.”

 "That's still not normal or, you know...healthy. And, yes, we're back to the bacon analogy.”

 “I happen to _like_ Bacon.”

 “Everyone does, but-”

 Her hand was on his mouth again. “Are you going to keep arguing, or are you going to kiss me?”

 “Well, if you're giving me the option,” he started as soon as he could talk again, “I'd say-”

 “I'd say you talk too much,” Candace retorted quickly and moved in for the kill, swinging herself up to trap him with a leg to either side of his as she stopped him talking in that way she was so good at.

 “Still a bad idea,” Heinz countered when she pulled away, but he doubted she was listening given her cat-that-washed-the-canary-down-with-cream expression.

 “You aren't breaking up with me again.”

 “I'm not?”

 “Nope.”

 “Oh, well,” he shrugged, “I guess if I've got no choice in the matter...”

 “No,” Candace said cheerfully, pulling him towards her again. “No, you don't.”

 

 


End file.
